Blues, Politics and War – And We Should Die of That Roar.

That element of tragedy which lies in the very fact of frequency, has not yet wrought itself into the coarse emotion of mankind; and perhaps our frames could hardly bear much of it. If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel’s heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence. As it is, the quickest of us walk about well wadded with stupidity.

So goes that famous quote from Mary Ann Evan‘s era-defining novel, Middlemarch. The quote deals with the idea of people having no attention for common, everyday suffering – how we maintain a self-imposed ignorance as a defence mechanism.

This quote, when one knows the history of Hardy Hum and his latest project, And We Should Die Of This Roar, makes the seemingly odd title all the more relevant and suspiciously poetic.

Suspiciously poetic, in many ways, forms a pertinent description of music that, on the face of things, appears deceptively simple.

Hardy Hum is a man with a rife of experiences in a rife of fields. He’s a man of poetry and literature, and represents this wholeheartedly in a vast array of different aspects. And, of course, like any man, he lives to express himself in a way only he can.

And in this release, he does so honestly and wholeheartedly. The result is an album that’s intentionally rough around the edges, often rather dark and voicing every side of a personality. It doesn’t try to be a higher state of being and it doesn’t pretend to be something it isn’t – this is because it already defies solid description or explanation – forming a fascinating ‘grey zone’ of neutral standing and emotional outburst.

It’s an album that lives on a gentle realm of rebellion – it’s not an anarchic record trying to take down an industry or a country, rather it tries to take down any predetermined ideas of how albums like this should work. There’s a sort of journey to it, although the genres and styles vary throughout. It’s less of an album, and more, in my mind, a journey through a very talented gentleman’s head.

It’s a solo record that does a far better job of portrait painting than your typical spiel – it doesn’t try to claim superiority – in its own way, it’s remarkably humble. The arrangements are not focused on complexity or trying to provide mozart – no, no, no – it’s more of a punk outlook. Simple, catchy, loud and, above all else…effective and infectious.

Built up of riffs that seem purposefully built to induce head nodding and foot tapping, deep, rattling vocals and carrying a certain smokey, sleazy aspect that evokes images of smoky old north american bars, many of the tracks evoke images of dark, worn out pubs, filled with people simply telling their own story. And Hardy has taken the forefront with more passion and charisma than everyone else in the ramshackle building.

The album is designed to be split into two bite-size chunks – think the ‘sides’ on an old record. The first ends with Trails, an incredibly atmospheric and tense track that sounds either like impending danger of the aftermath of that already passed. It quivers, it hisses in the background, and, eventually settles into silence.

After this it seems to burst back in with Hard to End – which, with the upbeat blues roaring back into play with a higher tempo than ever. Angrier, perhaps? It feels like the second half is the typical aftermath to a post-apocalyptic tale. The disaster’s happened – and the album continues through a very different landscape. The difficult part is choosing the better situation. Before the disaster with a sense of inevitable dread – or after, when your feelings have been justified..? That bit is, just as it should be, left up to the listener.

A particularly strong track that gains immediate accolades in my book is Nobody Cares, the first single. This bluesy, thumping, angry little track chugs along with the constant regularity of an oily machine – thumping out its message with great efficiency and tact, but with no need for polish or glamour. The track feels very pertinent in these times of war and disease – based upon this approach we, as people, are universally at fault for taking. Simply turning off the news and continuing with our lives, as the very stability of our surroundings is put at risk. Even if that sort of message isn’t your ‘thing’, the track provides such a wonderful riff and such marvellous, throaty vocals that it becomes irresistable for this humble reviewer’s tastes.

The most obvious musician to compare Hardy to would be Tom Waits, but this seems a little misplaced as to what he’s aiming for. The album really is its own personality, its own image, and it doesn’t try to emulate or recreate any other acts – and as a result, in my opinion…it doesn’t.

This album is, simply, unique. Full of atmosphere, and, while not perhaps the shiniest of records, the character it carries is present in one track more than in some bands’ entire careers. That, I believe, is something you can take to the bank.

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We were lucky enough to snag an interview with Mr. Hum to discuss his influences, where the album has come from, and, perhaps most importantly…ask about him! This is a particularly long interview with a pretty damn interesting gentleman. Our advice is to make a cup of tea, listen to some blues and have a couple of biscuits on hand – relax, and have a read – it’s well worth it.

Cat on the Wall:Hi there Hardy! Thanks for taking the time to talk to us today – how are things?

Hardy: Hi! And thank you for having me! I can’t really say much ’bout things (way too many of them and not one is like the other) but I’m hangin’ in there!

COTW:Please, introduce yourself to our readers!

Hardy: Okay now, see, I’m afraid I wouldn’t know how – all I can offer is my view of who I am which is likely to be boring to some, and probably a tad misleading.

But perhaps, since you asked, I could try and portray my orientation and outlook in the world in more…sentimental terms… So, I’m more heart than reason; more analogue than digital; more now than tomorrow; more organic than synthetic; more music than sports; more story than truth; more experience than reality; more more than less unless less is more – in which case I’d be more less than more. Which appears to be a paradox. And that suits me just fine – since I often conceive of myself as a walking contradiction anyway…But I’m sure that people who know me would disagree!

COTW:You’re here to talk about the debut release for your latest project, ‘And We Should Die of That Roar’. What can you tell us about it?

Hardy: Well, these are some of the songs I’ve been working on over the last couple of years, and they’re really built to reflect my own unrestrained, inquisitive, and passionate take on music, music writing and music performance.

In this project, being a solo author, I’ve really taken the advantage of the opportunity to pursue my visions, and to see where they’re going to take me. Alongside the conventional use of rhythms, harmonies and melodies, I was really eager to give room to a variety of tonal colours and textures, and, by paying close attention to the sense of space and its depth, creating a three-dimensional and lively soundstage.

I was into the vintage guitar and amp sounds and recording techniques, because I find them more pleasing to the soul. But, at the same time, I wanted to push things forward without succumbing to that ‘modern sound’ – although I do make use of modern inventions such as, for instance, sub-bass or wide stereo-spread, etc., to serve to the needs of each song.

I guess the guiding theme is that I wanted to avoid the confines of conventional ways of framing, arranging and recording songs, and see what kind of result I might get out of that. All in an attempt to give form to, and communicate, those raw, pre-semantic, emotional considerations that lurk somewhere in the shadows of my person.

I write of loss, grief and hopelessness as a few of the most natural dimensions of being human. Instead of expelling these dimensions to the outskirts of acceptance, I want my music to acknowledge and explore them. To me, they are precious elements of life. I believe that there’s a lot to be learned by getting to know them better. I also write of love and of the beauty of hurt that it, in one way or another, always carries through. By downplaying the unjustly negative image of this side of the human emotional spectrum, my music provides a comfort zone to anyone struggling to see the meaning of misfortune, mesmerizing complexity of heartbreak, and the developing wisdom that lives in burdensome life experiences.

Put it this way: I like the way my feet hurt after a long walk in shoes that are too small. I appreciate this pain because without it, I could never enjoy the rewarding bliss of taking the damn shoes off. We can’t really know alleviation without burden, happiness without misery, pleasure without pain. They imply each other. My music provides no escape. On the contrary, it’s a kind of a homemade exposure therapy club for those hurt. Those looking for hope should probably be looking elsewhere. What my music offers is understanding and recognition for the sad and blue, but, also, a sightseeing experience – through the grace of the shadows, for the accidentally cheerful souls gone astray.

COTW:The album is completely apart from any other releases we’ve had on the ‘zine in the past. What are the influences that build up the record?

Hardy: Well, thank you for your openness to featuring something that you regard as “completely apart” – I really appreciate that, and I think that your approach here resonates in harmony with the way I look at things! That is the very gist of And We Should Die Of That Roar: go where the heart is, stroll down the unbeaten path, pay tribute to the roots by avoiding conventions.

I see no short ways of answering this question, so please, bare with me for a moment here. See, people are pretty accustomed to organizing their perception of the world in binary pairs, i.e. binary opposites, which are viewed as clearly defined and set off against, or in contrast to each other…

Such pairs are black/white, male/female, body/machine, nature/culture, up/down, left/right etc. These conceptual categories provide comfort, and an opportunity for us to have a clue about what’s what and what’s not. To sort things into categories, to structure them up so we can organize our worldview – this is also the kind of structure that guides the formal logic where the presence or absence of contradiction gets to decide whether something is true or false – but there’s something missing there!

All grey zones are eclipsed by this way of seeing things. Things are rarely just black or white. The world, with all its phenomena, is much more complex than that.

What about all those things and people (including myself) who fall in-between these categories, who are neither here nor there, who just can’t fit within the narrow conceptual frames…? To be a property of out of these frames makes you…well, a property of nowhere… for instance, technological extension of the human body, beyond its boundaries, is becoming more and more common in contemporary medicine; the human body is being theoretically and practically dismantled, and reduced to the sum of its body parts – as it is, in the eyes of medicine, viewed as a machine composed of bones, tissue, cells, enzymes, hormones, and neurons – but how deep can we allow the technology to enter into the human body and still insist on calling it human?

On the other hand, how much of human attributes can we give our machines, and still insist on not calling them human? What is the border separating the cyborg from the android, where exactly does one end and the other begin? The boundaries between these conceptual categories are being more and more transgressed and blurred. Perhaps we’ve always been more in-between than we’d like to admit?

But this is far from being a story exclusively addressing the issue of human bodies and technology – no, the blurred boundaries form much more than merely an observable phenomenon – it is a norm of everything – identity, ethnicity, nationality etc. Is there really an “us” and “them”? Is there really a rescue in refuge? Salvation in hope? Independence in freedom? Care in love? Love in care?

I embrace the contradiction; those murky spaces in-between conceptual boundaries that escape identity, and are reluctant to being caged within tight frames of formal logic. I want my music to pose intriguing questions, rather than provide prophetic answers. I don’t believe in shedding light on the shadows. Or, at least, not instilling superiority of explanation over the pre-semantic gut feeling. I’m more into appreciating things for what they are, on their own premises. I praise the forever fleeing moment, the seductiveness of reflection and luxury of a pause.

…

So, I took the opportunity with And We Should Die of That Roar to kind of… steer away from the confines of these categories, from the musical and lyrical genres, to allow myself to get in touch with those deeply-felt sensibilities of life. You know? Things that really matter.

I should in no way claim to be musically liberated and experimental. I don’t really believe that much in experimental music. Experiments are for laboratories, not art. But I do believe in an explorative approach to music, which is something…well, different, and something that I can relate to both as a musician and an audience. I still like to feel secure by being rooted in musical traditions that have shaped my heart and ear throughout the years.

I mean, from the stuff my mom and dad sang and listened to when I was a kid, such as traditional Balkan tunes of Sevdah and Old City Music (“Starogradska”) to, you know, things like Hendrix and Janis Joplin, which were part of my mom’s record collection, and were, thus, some of the first records I’ve actually ever listened to. But during my early teens, I rebelled, as kids often do, against the tradition which is when popular “Western” music got my attention: especially blues and rock’n’roll, and, later on, even various genres of metal.

Then, during my late teens I felt drawn to punk music and punk culture, including all its subgenres from roots, such as reggae n ska, Oi, street punk, and more modern punk rock. There is a common denominator here – all musical styles that I felt deep in my guts were technically rather simple but, emotionally, extremely complex, often leaning towards the darker side of the fence.

In recent years I’ve been mostly into early blues (Vera Ward Hall, Son House, Robert Johnsson, Memphis Slim etc), some jazz (Thelonious Monk), post 50’s blues, (Howlin’ Wolf, Little Walter, Muddy Waters, Hound Dog Taylorm, Bo Diddley, Junior Kimbrough, Junior Wells etc), contemporary interpretations of the earlier blues music, such as Black Keys, Hacienda, The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, White Stripes, Eels, Chocolate Genius Inc., Ramblin’ Jack Elliott and perhaps most of all, two Swedish guys, Slidin’ Slim and Daniel Norgren, who are just amazing! Some swing (Benny Goodman, Washboard Rhythm Kings), and I’ve also listened a lot to more alternative artists that have deeply inspired me (PJ Harvey, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Antony and the Johnsons, Tom Waits), some great old n new guitarists (Django Reinhardt, Hubert Sumlin, Lightnin’ Hopkins, T-Bone Walker, Freddy King, Marc Ribot, Nels Cline, Buddy Miller, T-Bone Burnett), some traditional Balkan music (SabanBajramovic, Mostar Sevdah Reunion, Azra Sings etc), and also some classics that I can never get tired of, such as the proto-punk legends The Stooges, Patti Smith and the rockers The Cult, Black Crowes, Pearl Jam …and then some ex-Yugoslav bands, such as Partibrejkers, Goribor and LetuStuke.

The bluesy melody in one of the songs on the album – A Blessing and a Curse of a Highly Developed Night Vision, was a deliberate tribute to the early blues – more exactly it is my take on the lead song melody from Vera Ward Hall’s great “Trouble so Hard” (recorded by Alan Lomax during the 30’s) which was also covered by Moby, who managed to make this traditional tune famous amongst the youngsters.

Sneaking in a melody like that in the middle of one of my songs was my way of publicly declaring, “Hey, this is one of those things that had inspired me” – But there are also things that sometimes find their way into the songs without me being really aware of it. The sequence during the 1st theme (the circus-from-hell acoustic chromatic jaunt) in Brittle Hand is almost a rip-off of a sequence in Tom Waits’ Everything You Can Think Of is True, from the Alice album – but I didn’t realize that until at least two years after I’ve written the damn song! I love that record, as I love all Waits’ work – and I’ve been listening to his stuff for years, including that particular track – which was probably one of the first Waits songs I’d ever heard. It must have infiltrated me and popped its head out in one of my own songs! Really, It’s hard to consider that “stealing”, so I decided that it might be another of those tributes to the people and songs that had inspired me.

But in the end, I really gotta say this. I’m more inspired by people – people I know, people close to me; my friends and family. Those are the relationships that really matter.

They’re the most challenging, and rewarding, relationships in life. And that really contributes to music.

Being a fanatic music consumer, to me, music is a never-ending journey and I love exploring its vast depths. I love doing that together with good friends – few things can be as inspiring as such joint musical expedition – a couple of friends, a spinning record, some good food and a couple of cold beers, I just love that kind of stuff.

So in the music I kind of communicate the friendship we have, it’s right there, a nod to”our” sentiment, things we love and share… Gottlieb once wrote that “What’s important is how you view the ocean together.”

And that’s really how things work for me. So the album is packed with hidden messages, hints and tacit understandings that only a chosen few will understand.

But the symbolism of that expression can be taken by anybody, interpreted by anybody – And as a result I don’t tend to discuss my lyrics very often. I think it could spoil somebody’s experience to explain what really went into the song. That’s never a good thing – truth belongs to everybody. And who cares about what’s ‘correct’, really?!

I suppose I can say, however, that I draw from Eastern European literacy, the traditional stuff – people such as Kafka, Dostojevskij, and Selimović, all of which are known for introspective and contemplative prose – inspired by existentialism and fondness for the dark sides of human life. I also find inspiration in love poems by Rabindranath Tagore, the uncanny praise to the dark, dirty, sinful and finite by Charles Baudelaire, wayward, yet brave, odes to the connections of mind and spirituality by Hafez.

Waits and Cave, with their approach to writing song lyrics, are the biggest in music.

Hardy: Yes, they really are! While they might be triggered by anything – a song, a line in a movie, the shape of a tree, colour of the snow, texture of the building, the way shadows are shaped in the late afternoon, etc, there’s always a sentiment of deep personal experience attached to each song.

I seem to lean towards writing reflective and personal lyrics, that slowly take shape through emotional turbulence – and I always carry around within me, by the horns, trying to deal with it. You see, a long time ago I realized that I don’t do music because I am entertained by it, or even less because I want to entertain others – to me music is healing… and I do mention that in track 07. “my wounds, they heal each time I sing”.

Musically I am rarely inspired by a genre or certain style but almost always by a mood I’m in, which, to certain extent, depends on what music I am consuming at that time – these two things are mutually constitutive, and I think that’s just great.

COTW:Do you think there’s a standout track on the album that really defines its style and what you were aiming for?

Hardy: Not really, mostly because there is no “thing”, no “style” that I’m aiming for. I’m just trying to get my ya-ya’s out there, and approach the task of expressing my sensibilities, giving them an artistic form of expression – which is also a form of communication that most respect.

During the recording of this album, I realized that there are at least 4 or 5 voices, or characters, which emerge through the way I push air from my lungs through my throat.

It seems to me that in most cases a singer’s “signature” voice would be regarded as the most viable and lucrative thing. Something people easily can identify as unique, strong and… whatever! So at first, I got worried by that. ‘cos I offer a lot of different voices – and it wasn’t I planned or calculated… each song just teased a different voce out of me. Sometimes a different voice, or character for different parts of the same song.

So there’s this multivocality present here, all these alter-egos almost implying some sort of schizoid identity thing going on. And maybe that’s just how things are with me. It’s okay! My co-producer and sound engineer Kenny Lundström tried to comfort me by saying: “Well these voices are your strength – it’s what sets you apart”.

I really appreciate that! But there is one thing these voices have in common – and it’s this pain they all lug around. That’s my signum. I don’t do no happy songs!

So no, there’s no standout track that kinda sums it all up. But maybe all of the things I’ve just said, in combination with my background, all of the things responsible for who I am generate a “thing”. A sort of continuous style.

So there’s an aesthetic style, a form, which kind of governs over my music and is governed by it simultaneously. But the record as a whole is not just a pile of songs assembled together – it’s meant as a journey, and should, really, be heard in its entirety. I’m aware that approach to records is somewhat of a rarity these days – singles are the big thing now, and fast consumption of music is preferable. However, I’m not into compliance. I don’t really feel like conforming to the way music business and the forces behind it are shaped today. So I prefer to do things my way – for better or for worse!

The tracks I consider ‘must listens’ on the album are Understand for a slow metamorphosis and the emotion; the first single, Nobody Cares for a thick, heavy groove and the politics; Hard to End, because it’s a gloomy swing track – and sounds almost like it’s come from a club in 1950s New York! Brittle Hand gets a mention, too, with a pumping, torn-drum sound, eerie strings and paradoxically tense yet beautiful romance; Good God has another stomping groove, too…but then again maybe the Hooks trilogy would be the best choice for some people… there are a couple of nice acoustic tunes too… see, now, I’ve pretty much referred to the entire album…! Proof that the album should be listened primarily in its entirety – and then it’s up to each listener (and/or you reviewers!) to name favourites, and analyze which ones are mostly representative of the overall sound of the album.

COTW:You, of course, grew up in a turbulent time, and saw, first hand, the Yugoslav wars hit your country at the age of 15. Which prompted you to leave what was Yugoslavia for Sweden. Do you think this particularly turbulent experience at such a young age has influenced your music?

Hardy: Yes, it most certainly has! And this particular experience is present in the lyrics as well, perhaps often more implicit, in a subtle kind of way – to allow a broader audience to relate to the words.

As I’ve mentioned in passing earlier, while refuge has brought me a salvation from the demise of a country in decay, living a life of a refugee has also brought permanent homelessness in the margin in-between the life lost and the life imagined. The scars left by the horrors of war are, indeed, deep. But the pain goes deeper than that, and it’s more far-reaching and all-encompassing than one would imagine.

See, most people reason with “well, let’s embrace and give these poor people a new home and a new hope and everything will be just fine”…but it’s not. It’s hard to explain this without coming off as ungrateful, really, and the point is that I really do appreciate everything that my new host country, or homeland, has given me.

But there’s still something missin’… When I first heard Drive-By Trucker’s song “Hellno, I ain’t happy” I was like, yeah, finally, man, this is exactly how I’ve been feeling for years… and I don’t see an end to it. But I’ve also stopped running away from it… See, I can’t say that I’m okay with it but I’ve accepted it as a natural part of my character. I’m done fighting my demons. Instead, I got down with them. So now I accept that it’s me, it’s who I am… it’s not a matter of choice really. Luckily for me, I’m surrounded by some great and loving people and I have music as an ongoing permanent therapy and, yeah, it shapes my music a lot. I think you can hear all these unsettled and worried voices in the record.

So, I’m no longer worried about me, really! What concerns me is all the injustice, oppression, and violence taking place around the world. Just take a look at the Israel-Palestine conflict, for instance! It’s been going on forever and there don’t seem to be no end in sight. So generation after generation of kids are born into raining missiles, Kalashnikovs, nationalist propaganda, suicide bombers, hatred, fear, poverty – on both sides of the wall – and this is their default mode of existence. This is what is normal for them! Should peace happen, it would be but a temporary disturbance – an extraordinary event that’ll soon be over. And then things can go back to normal – back to war, and more hatred and violence. I was born into a peaceful and flourishing country (Yugoslavia before war) so, for me, it’s the other way around – my worldview is still based on an understanding that peace is normal and the war is not. For millions of kids around the globe, it’s the other way around – and this is the real problem that we need to deal with. It’s reminiscent of Plato’s cave allegory – spend your life amongst the shadows, and you’ll be unable to appreciate the light, if exposed to it.

I once wrote the line “there’s blood on our hands in this disaster so massive ‘coz each and every one of us is actively passive” – and yes, we watch these things on morning news, and then we just kind of “zap the motherfucker away” (quoting from Nobody Cares)… and we’re off. Again. As usual. Busy living our own lives, pursuing whatever goals we might have… and that’s that. It’s a head-in-the-sand strategy, and that’s not gonna cut it. We have stand up, dare raise our voice, engage in a debate, on the street, at work, over a coffee table, at home, take the opportunity of having an access to a camera or a microphone and address these important issues. Otherwise, I really do fear that the world might reach a point of no return. And then what? It’s too late, man.

COTW:This isn’t your only experience in music. You’ve been playing for twenty five years, I believe – and travelled as part of a group brilliantly dubbed ‘TheBlockbastards‘. What’s sent you down a solo route?

Hardy: Yeah, BlockBastards were my home for more than a decade, man! We were a family, and most of us still are great, great friends. This was a period in which I really learned a lot – both as a musician, and as a human being.

Being in a band is no walk in the park – shit needs to be negotiated, songs need to be discussed…we need to agree, and that’s not always the easiest thing to do… which is why I am so proud of four of us sticking together for such a long time. I guess that we’d found some kind of balance in our work, and were therefore able to work together – and still remain good friends in the process.

One thing is sure though, these lessons in group thinking, and the social dynamics of how a group works…that’s really something that helps me in everything I do today – and I am sure that the rest of the BlockBastards are aware of the skill too – and appreciate it!

Musically, I believe that it was through our loyalty to rock and punk rock that we really developed a fine sense for this… power of simplicity in music – not unlike that found in blues – something that, to this day, has shaped my take on music. And I’m so grateful for that.

As to why I went down a solo route – there’s nothing really exciting to be said about that. We all grew, we matured, we entered the responsibilities and joy of parenthood, went on pursuing some other goals in life… and, perhaps, we were growing a tad too old for the punk rock and the energy required for that good ol’ upbeat-raging-moshpit-generating jaunt – that just wasn’t there anymore. Besides, how long can you play in a punk rock band that’s just on the verge of that great big breakthrough… but never quite gets there – all the dedication, playing, touring – all of which costs much more than you get paid etc? At one point you, just feel that it’s time to move on. As much as I missed BlockBastards, I missed music! So, I gathered my gear, rented a rehearsal space in town and started with my best foot forward… until And We Should Die Of That Roar was born.

Frankly, it must be said…the solo route is also the most convenient one – it’s just you, so there’s no need for negotiations, the times for rehearsals, recording sessions and live performances are shorter and easier too book than ever. This is, practically, much easier for a dude in his late 30’s with a huge commitment to his family.

COTW:What else do you have planned? Music videos? Tours? Another record?

Hardy: Yes, I do have a concept video for the 1st single, Nobody Cares, coming out soon. It’s in the making now by Cristoffer Åström, a great guy from Sweden, and we’ve come up with some really cool ideas together. I think you’re gonna love it!

As for touring…no. It’s the industry’s way of making the artists earn more money for their labels, by being on the road constantly. No, I don’t feel attracted to the road – I can’t hear its call, and I won’t be a touring artist. That said, I will be playing these songs live every so often – it’s just that those occasions will be handpicked by me – and on my terms, only.

COTW:Are there any musicians from around the world that have particularly taken your fancy? Any artists that our readers might enjoy?

Hardy: Hahaha, yes, I always like to think of myself as musical missionary, preaching to the masses about what they should lend their ears and hearts to…So thank you for this opportunity! Yeah, I’d like to raise Daniel Norgrenwho is a Swede, and one of those particularly strong artists who have inspired me deeply. He’s a one-man army, and I believe he started out as a busker, playing drums, guitar, blues harp simultaneously on the street corners, under the bridges and in all kinds of odd places… and, nowadays, he tours with a three- or four-piece band. Man, I’ll tell ya, he sings with such a passion. He really gets you in the gut. So, definitely check him out!

But I’d also like to point at some of the long standing icons, those that really deserve the attention, especially amongst your younger readers – Tom Waits, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, and PJ Harvey – there is such a variety in their music alone and they are, from where I stand, the very definition of being in-between, which is, after all, a quite cool place to be; at least if you ask me!

COTW:Thank you very much for taking the time to talk to us today – here’s hoping we’ll be hearing more from you very soon! Any final worlds for family, friends, fans, or…even us?!

Hardy: Thank you for having me! I hope we’ll talk again soon! Keep up the good work with your webzine and keep the height!

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And We Should Die Of That Roar’s self-titled debut is due for release on the 19th of November, 2014. It gets full marks from us – but if you remain uncertain, have a listen to its first single below!

About the author

Compulsive hat wearer, eccentric, fan of all things audio-visual, part time Goth, historian, and railway enthusiast, Jordan is the closest you can get to everybody's weird uncle. Except he's less than 60 years old.